Nine Eleven O'one
by 00Geeky00 00Goggles00
Summary: Exactly what the title says.
1. Chapter 1

**Today...was 9/11. And so... I give you this. I don't own Hetalia.**

Today was supposed to be normal. It was supposed to be relaxing. To be...perfect.

But life doesn't care how it's supposed to be.

America was in his his hotel room playing pokemon. The world conference had finished yesterday at the World Trade Center, and he was pooped. A can of root beer was next to him, as 'American Pie' played in the background.

Then, an earth-shattering boom rang through the air.

America doubled over in pain. He clutched his stomach as if he were about to wretch. Lines of agony creased his face, creating a sour grimace. Barely able to stay upright, he swallowed the fear in his throat and replaced it with bravery."What...the hell...was that?!" America choked. He abandoned his pokemon game, stumbled over and looked out the window.

It was difficult to get America to stop talking much less get him speechless. Nothing in the room moved or made a sound. This... was the definition of tragedy. America's mouth hung open at the scene before him. It reflected in his eyes, like a watery mirror image. He raced to his car, and drove to the Twin Towers.

This was the first plane that had hit the world trade center.

+a little while later+

America reached the Twin Towers in record time. It was even worse in person. He smelled the acrid, sour smell of the thick, black smoke that poured from the building. He saw the people, trapped between two deaths making their choice. The choice to burn or to fall. Many chose to fall. He watched as these people with no chance of surviving, without any hope, jumped and flailed helplessly in the air before hitting the ground. Jumpers, they were called. Debris fell, burning, to the ground. There was more.

He heard the screams of grief, of the loved ones of the jumpers watched them fall and hit the ground with a thud. Emergency sirens blared as authorities rushed to the scene. The sound of crackling fire, stung America's ears.

It was crippling, to see his country so shocked and broken. Then...BOOOM! CRASH!... the second plane hit, sending another blow to the already weakened Alfred. This time he did wretch, for the second blow was worse than the first. He lay in the fetal position on the ground. His vision was blurry now, and glasses cracked. Still, he could see the grief and terror surrounding him. More debris rained down, and people ran for their lives, screaming the entire way.

What seemed like a few seconds later, America felt a stabbing pain in his chest though he didn't see anything. His breathing became ragged and he heaved the rest of anything in his stomach. He writhed in his torturous pain, resisting the urge to cry out for help. He was dizzy, and nearly alone now. Everyone had evacuated. Even through his torment, America knew he had to get away. He flopped to a standing position and started running. Pain shot through his body and his only thought could be, **_run._**

A block or so away, America collapsed as the south tower fell. He was showered with shrapnel from the impact, and the metal cut his face, but he was alive. His bomber jacket was shredded, as well as his mind. He gasped for breath as he slowly healed. When the external damage was less, he limped his way back to the hotel where the countries were staying, feeling like a zombie.

+later+

Back at his room, England and Japan were waiting for him. When America dragged the door open he had blood streaming down his face. His clothes were torn, bloody, and singed. His hair a mess and he was covered in debris. His body was a wreck. England was immediately there, hugging the broken country.

"MY GOD WHERE WERE YOU, YOU BLOODY WANKER?! WHERE THE HE'LL WERE YOU?! WE SCOURED THE CITY LOOKING FOR YOU! GOD, I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE SAFE!"

America hung limply in his arms, but England didn't care about the extra weight. Even Japan who was still just looking on, had a small smile. However, when America went unconscious, England was immediately getting him to bed. Japan made calls to the other countries, telling them America was found alive.

**I will update soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Next update. I don't own Hetalia.**

America opened his eyes and the light rushed in. He clasped them shut, and opened them slowly. He saw he was in bed at the hotel. Everything ached. He tried to move, but his core surged with searing pain. He lay back down. What was he supposed to do? He was America! The hero dammit! Despite the surge of pain, he stood and stumbled to the bathroom to get something for the pain.

When he came out of the bathroom he went to get dressed. Then he saw it. His bomber jacket, torn to shreds. He went over and picked it up, squeezing it in his hands. The leather wrinkled like a face, twisting into a grimace. He ran his fingers over the ruined stitching and thought of yesterday's events. He forced himself not to cry. Not yet.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple white T-shirt. He walked to the kitchen as the pain meds started to kick in. America, for once, wasn't hungry. He looked at the leftover pizza he had microwaved and felt sick to his stomach. The pizza was left abandoned on the kitchen counter.

When America walked into the living area of the room, all the color drained from his face. The Twin Towers, once standing beautifully in the New York skyline, stood in ruin. Remnants of the buildings still let off whisps of smoke from the fire that had ravaged it the day before. It was painful to look at, even from a distance. A grim look was shown on America's face. He knew where he would be today, even if he didn't want it to be true.

America was just trudging into the hallway when a certain Brit stopped him.

"America!" England called. He ran over to where America was standing.

"Yeah?" He said weakly. England was shocked. America was never this quiet. Never this serious. Never this...defeated. The only other time America had ever been anywhere near this...depressed... was after Pearl Harbor was bombed. Nevertheless, England continued the conversation.

"Where are you going?" England asked. Great job. He thought. Very comforting.

America just stared, and England knew the answer.

"I'll come with you."

+later+

America stepped out of his car and walked the rest of the way. England followed at a distance.

When they reached the buildings, or at least what was left of them, America's shoulders slumped. His eyes went dead, and started to well with tears. The twisted metal of plane and building mixed on the ground. Papers littered the surrounding area. He walked over to what used to be a beutiful lobby. It was all dust and ashes now. Smoke whisps stung his nose. The Twin Towers were in ruin.

The most gruesome part, was the corpses. Burned to a crisp and positioned in the agony of their last dying moments. The bodies of Jumpers were worse. He saw people he knew, people he worked with, people he was friends with. All of them twisted in broken positions, some of them had eyes open and staring. Lifeless.

America felt as if he watched the towers collapse all over again. His knees went weak, and he fell to the ground kneeling. Something so beutiful, filled with beutiful people, from so many beutiful places, was obliterated in minutes. It rocked America to the core. All the walls came crashing down all over again. Face in hands, knees in the rubble of disaster, America broke down and sobbed.

All England could do was rub his back and watch.

**That's it for now. R+R and tell me if I should do England's pov or something like that. Remember this day in history. Remember the people. Remember what America stands for. Bye.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next chapter. It's going to be what happened from England's pov. Thank you to: Animelover5008, Verity of Paradise, Canadianotaku2001, and GirlFish for reviewing. I cannot do this event justice, but I'm glad people like what I write. Without further ado, chapter three.**

England was in his hotel room, attempting to bake...something. He was trying to make a cake. However, when the oven went off and he pulled it out, he put it aside to cool so he could dump it in the trash without causing a fire. The cake had turned out lopsided. It was burned on the outside and raw on the inside. _Bloody hotel stove!_ He thought. _I can bake! This stove is too crappy!_ Raging aside, he threw the ruined cake in with the other five. Baking is supposed to be easy right? Nope.

England decided to take a break from baking. He stood at the window, absent mindedly watching the New York skyline. He supposed it was nice, and at least the Twin Towers were a nice place to meet. It was fair day with a clear blue sky. While England admired this fact, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A jumbo jet was flying low, near the tops of buildings. This worried England, as the plane was getting dangerously close to...oh God please,_ no._

That was his last thought before the plane exploded into the side of one of the buildings of the World Trade Center. His jaw dropped in shock, as fire started to engulf the area around it. Large debris fell to the ground. Emergency sirens screamed through the streets. While still keeping an eye at the towers through the window, England rushed to turn on the news.

Reporters on the ground were narrating the chaos that was spreading around them. News anchors yelled and went frozen in shock and terror. England watched, speechless. His body was numb. He saw the footage of people running for their lives. Evacuating. People were on stretchers, looking half dead.

What seemed like only seconds later, England watched in horror as a second plane rammed into the second tower, the explosion almost the same size as the first. He grimaced at the footage shown, of people jumping to their deaths and landing with a thump. People in times square stood speechless, looking at the giant screen and trying to deal with the horror of what just happened. Authorities were at the scene trying evacuate and rescue as many people as they could. It was chaos.

A sudden thought occurred to him. _America...AMERICA! _His mind swirled with emotion as he ran to the room America was staying in on the tenth floor. He was on the third. Fear, anger, hope, dread, and grief all mixed inside his head, encouraging him to move faster. His lungs burned and head spun as he ascended multiple floors on the new burst of adrenaline. As he ran he saw citizens and countries alike start to panic.

Bursting into the unlocked room, England could tell right away that America was not there. The loud country's presence and personality could fill a room, but this room was utterly empty. It was like a ghost town. An air of cold loneliness and pain hung in the room. England felt his walls of focus breaking down, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had a job to do.

+later+

After making a round of phone calls, England had gathered a small team to look for America. Members of the team were France, Germany, Italy, Romano, Spain, Prussia, China, and Japan. Germany and Romano didn't particularly like America, but were willing to help anyway. It isn't like any of them had never had to deal with a tragedy before. They all knew this was going to be a very painful time for the normally happy country, and felt this was the least they could do. They knew the American government would be overrun right now, and foreign governments were too far away to help.

England stood in front of the team and began to give direction. France and Prussia were to do a general patrol of the city. Germany and Italy would check times square. China would check America's favorite bar, and make sure he wasn't drinking his problems away. Prussia whined at this, but England shot him the if-you-dont't-shut-up-I-will-kill-you look so well, that even Germany got a little unnerved. England meant business, which meant they would too. Finally, Spain and Romano were to check the blocks surrounding the Twin Towers and get as close as they could. England and Japan would stay at America's hotel room to serve as a command center.

+later+

England kept all the phone lines open so that the search parties could contact him if they found America. So far, nothing. He was anxious and worried America would be hurt. Countries were immortal as long as they still owned land, that was true. But injuries still took a while to heal, and mental damage could be just as bad if not worse.

Japan saw the look of worry on the English country's face. He wasn't quite sure how to comfort him though. He settled for a hand on the shoulder.

"We'll find him. He'll be okay." Japan offered. This reassured England somewhat, and he contacted the search parties again. Still nothing.

They looked out the window at the burning buildings. Sirens continued to blare. Smoke was pouring out of the two gaping holes in the building. People that were able to evacuate were gone. Hoses sprayed nearly uselessly at the blazing inferno. _America , where the hell are you?_

Suddenly, the South Tower started to creak and groan. Almost as if it was in slow motion, the tower started to collapse. England was on the phone in milliseconds.

"SPAIN, ROMANO! **GET OUT OF THERE!**" England screamed. Japan jumped back at the sudden outburst.

"Si! On our way!" Spain replied desperately. He could hear Romano loose a string of curses in the background. Both were breathing hard.

In seconds, the South Tower was gone, in a rolling wave of dust and smoke.

"Spain? Romano?" England asked into the receiver. For a minute, there was silence. Then he heard Spain's voice come through.

"We're okay" He breathed. England released a breath he had no clue he was holding.

Then worry set in again. Where the hell is America? All England could do was stare numbly out the window at the collapsed Tower, that had once held it's own place in the New York scenery.

+later+

The search had stopped. Everyone was tired, and America was nowhere to be found. England kept staring ahead, but instead of numb, he was grim. What had happened? He couldn't be dead, could he? Countries couldn't die, right? England was ready to give up. Tears welled in his eyes. Why did he care so much? Well, America and himself had a lot of history together. As annoying as the git could be, at least he was loyal and could care if he wanted to. England kept losing hope. Japan was getting concerned but he had no clue what to do. So, he just sat quietly.

Then, the door opened. England turned to see a bloodied, torn-up, dirty, tired, pained, and half dead America. England lost his usual containment, and hugged the broken country. America was limp in his arms, but he didn't care about the extra weight. He was just glad America was alive. Even Japan had a small smile.

However, when America fell unconscious, England took him to get cleaned up and in bed. Japan nodded at England and called the countries in the search parties to tell them Ameria was found and, _alive_.

**Next chapter will be short. The day after, from England's pov.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to GirlFish, Animelover5008, AnimeKitten123, and sherlocked-with-no-key for the reviews! I was reading them and I want to cry I'm so happy! I have people reading what I've written. I'm telling you, only my hetalia fictions are worth taking a look at. Anyway, this chapter is still England's pov and It's the day after. Enjoy.**

England woke up the next morning to his alarm clock. When he managed to flop over and turn it off, he got dressed and ready to leave. He went to the kitchen to grab a poptart, untoasted of course._ Tch, American food._.. That thought hung in the air for a while. Then memories of yesterday that were blocked by sleep came flooding back. He rushed to the window and ripped open the curtains. The Twin Towers were no longer standing. Large piles of rubble and metal stood in their place. Pieces were still smoking in the wreckage.

England knew he had to check on America to see how badly he was injured. They still had a little time at the hotel anyway. He threw open his door and began to rush down the hall, when he saw America.

"America!" He called, and ran over.

"Yeah?" The broken nation replied weakly. England was in shock. America was never this tired, downcast, and as much as England didn't want to think it so, America looked ... defeated. It broke his heart to see him like this. Nevertheless, he would try to keep the conversation going.

"Where are you going?" He asked. America just looked at him. He'd only seen that look twice before. The...that time..., and Pearl Harbor. This was the look of utter depression. Almost as if his soul is gone and he is empty. The lifeless, listless, longing look that wants something good to happen but knows that right now there is only sadness, and grief. With that look, England knew exactly where America was going.

"I'll come with you."

+later+

They stepped out of the car after a silent car ride. England followed from a distance as America walked. As they walked England could see the pain, grief, and sorrow mounting the other's face. And who could blame him? His once beautiful and proud buildings were obliterated. Thousands of people lay dead around them. Even England was shocked that somebody, ANYBODY would do this.

After a few more minute of walking, they stopped. America looked down and fell to his knees. Then, one of the strongest countries England knew, as well as one of the bravest, put his head in his hands and sobbed. It was depressing to listen to, let alone watch. England walked up and kneeled next to the sobbing America. He rubbed the other's back to try to comfort him. America pulled him into a bear hug and cried on his shoulder. All England could do was hug him back and hope things would look up soon.

**A little bit of an extended ending. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I think I'm only gonna do two more chapters for this story. Next chapter will be back to America's pov present day. Chapter after that will be England talking to Austria (because reasons) and Austria being a snob. Sorry Austria fans! Don't kill me! Read and Review because reviews help me write.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I think this is going to be the last chapter. (= ^ =) Sorry but I'm out of ideas. Still, I hope this is a good last chapter.**

America blinked sleepily at the bright sun. He groaned and stretched, trying to get rid of the tired feeling from the night before. He wanted to lie back down into the crisp and inviting sheets, but he knew there were things he had to do today. He did this every year on this day. America swung his legs to the floor of his bedroom and got up take a shower and get dressed.

This was big day each year, for today was 9/11. Thirteen years since the Twin Towers had crumbled. Thirteen years since the strike on the Pentagon. Thirteen years since a few brave American citizens, stood up to the terrorists that were among them. Thirteen years since the day that had changed America forever.

Once America was out of the shower, he ran his fingers through his hair to comb it out a little. When it was a little less scruffy, he walked to his bedroom to get dressed. America opened his closet with a heavy sigh. He walked past racks of clothes, some racks empty, some full to the brim. The further back America went, the older the clothes were, some of them dating back to when he was just a colony.

The back of the closet held not just clothes, but memories. Old war uniforms as well as the clothes he was found with as a colony. But he was there for three particular items. He walked to a rack which held three wooden hangers. On these hangers were a discolored T-shirt, a torn pair of jeans, and a very worn bomber jacket.

America selected them off the rack, and donned them carefully. Almost as if he thought they may burn his skin. On a small table nearby, a pair of slightly cracked glasses sat, seeming to glow in the light. America traded his glasses for the cracked ones, and padded out of the closet.

He went the living room, and gazed out the window, picturing the Twin Towers, in all their glory, standing there tall and proud.

Then, an image of the ruined Towers flashed in his mind. He winced as he remembered the burning pain throughout his body on that day, and the utter grief on the day after. America willed himself to calm down. He would have plenty of time to think in a little went to the kitchen to grab some breakfast. He was going to be out for a while.

At 8:45, when the first plane had struck the north tower of the World Trade Center, America grabbed his keys and got in his car. He had somewhere to be.

+later+

America parked about one block away. When he got close he saw England, exactly where they said they would meet. America slowly trudged up to the older nation, attempting to offer a weak smile. England winced, then his expression turned soft.

"Don't." He said. Any hint of a smile on America's face was gone in an instant, replaced with melancholy sulk. You knew today was not a happy day, when it started at the 9/11 memorial.

Along with many others, America had come to grieve. Except, he held grief for ALL of the thousands of people that had died that day. As America walked by, he read every bit of text on the memorial, from start to finish. But, whether it be from numbness, or sheer force of will, America managed to hold back the tears that threatened to spill ober.

At a little after 9:03, when the second plane crashed into the North Tower, the two countries got in America's car, and drove to the 9/11 museum.

+later+ (a little of both, pov' s, and the reader's)

Tissues. That was the first thing Arthur noticed, was the tissues. An employee at the museum saw him staring at them, confused. The employee walked over and tapped both men on the shoulder. England jumped, but America just turned and nodded. The employee nodded back and turned to England.

"You're gonna need em." They said, matter-of-factly. America walked on. England took a pocket full of tissues just in case.

Inside, there was a vast expanse of knowledge and artifacts from 9/11. England was floored. It was so much more horrifying than he had imagined. How could somebody do this much damage in one day? Why?... Why would they do this?... and it just seemed to go on forever. Endless. Endless death, endless grief, endless sorrow, endless anger, endless destruction. And yet, even though it was horrible and depressing, it was also inspiring. The cases of heroism weren't as many, but were so many times more timeless. England was shaken in both the best and worst ways possible. He sniffed, and wiped away the tear he hadn't noticed had escaped.

He did however, notice that America was deathly silent.

America was to say the least, felt everything from that day all over again, and he knew that right now was his time to be able to feel sorrow. His head was angled down most of the time. His face contorted into the image of misery. Tears streamed away,.down his face and onto the floor. His shoulders shook from the weight of his sorrow. Even the stories of triumph, would end in death.

But, America also felt a stab of pride at these stories. He was proud to be the embodiment of these brave, resilient people. And as they left, America though he was still sad, looked forward to their next stop. America turned and hugged England, who stiffened a little at the sudden action, but hugged back,for a last bit of comfort.

At 10:05am, when the South Tower collapsed, and with a new hope in his eyes, America headed to the Freedom Tower with England.

+later+

Even though it wasn't quite finished yet, the Freedom Tower was a sight to behold. It rose into the sky, assuming it's own unique position against the New York scenery. To America, it was a symbol of hope, a symbol of resilience, a symbol of bravery, and of course, freedom. The sight made him smile. Despite what had happened on this day so long ago, America stood strong.

America drove back to where England had parked and dropped him off. They said their goodbyes, and parted ways. America was looking forward to whatever happened next in his country. Even though this day brought grief, it brought something even stronger with it. Courage.

**Review! Let me see what you think!**


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